


Oxygen

by threefouram



Series: Air [3]
Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst - But Only If You Squint, Fluff - But Only If You Squint Harder, Friendship - Yes It's Definitely This One, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-25 07:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12031185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threefouram/pseuds/threefouram
Summary: ' He plays with loose thread hanging off of his shirt, wraps it around two of his fingers until they go red and then he lets go. "I want to be more than just an asset for him and his company, an heir to his fortune," he says. "I want to be his son."Here is Placido, trying to study for Finals in his best friend's house. And here is Juanito, pacing around his too-large room, rambling about his father and his sexuality. And the room, really, feels a lot bigger — and they, consequently, feel a lot smaller — when they're not on the same bed. 'or: in which they are friends, and they are okay.





	Oxygen

**Author's Note:**

> See, I was going to get something out before August ended. I promise, I was. (But things didn't work out, so here. Happy September, have some light angst because it's my birth-month which is enough reason to start being sad, really.)
> 
>  
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/saaille).

"So," Juanito starts, "I've been thinking."  
  
  
  
No response.  
  
  
  
He sighs in exasperation. " _Placiding_."  
  
Placido doesn't even raise his head to look at him, brow furrowed as he highlights something in his notes and scribbles something down. He puts the cap back on his highlighter and lays it down on the bed. He has his pencil twirling in one hand as he flexes the other. "Really?" he asks flatly. "You've been thinking? Try not to hurt yourself."  
  
He rolls his eyes. "I've been thinking about telling my dad. That I'm gay, you know?"  
  
"I know."  
  
He huffs, standing up. He tugs at the comforter that Placido is sitting on, effectively getting the other boy to drop his pencil. "Listen to  _me_ ," he whines, dragging out the 'e' sound. Placido sighs and reaches down to retrieve his pencil. He finally spares a glance him, then shifts to sit more comfortably on the bed. "I  _am_ listening," he says. Juanito thinks that maybe he looks as tired of life as he sounds, but does not bring it up.  
  
"Okay," Juanito says.  
  
Placido mirrors him, "Okay."  
  
"I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. And of course, we are in college — almost out of it, really — so it should barely matter if he, you know... if he decides that..." He trails off as he feels his throat closing in on him. The next of his words are kind of rushed, and he lets his voice waver through his sentences. "... _that he'd rather not have a gay son who would much rather play the violin than take over his business_. Because he already knows that I'm one of those things, and I've disappointed him enough trying to push for Music School all of those years ago."  
  
  
  
A beat of silence.  
  
  
  
"It should barely matter," he repeats, more to himself than Placido. "But he's also the only family that I've really got? I don't... I don't  _know_ if I can live with... with if he  _didn't_..." He's not entirely sure what the best, what the right way to finish that sentence is. Placido, at least, might understand what he is trying to say anyway. "I could find the means to live, I'm just not sure I  _could_..."  
  
He heaves out a heavy breath. "He's my father. Ever since I was a little kid, all I've wanted was for him to look at me like I'm his pride and joy— like I'm worth something to him, you know? The way that I would see other parents looking at their kid." He plays with loose thread hanging off of his shirt, wraps it around two of his fingers until they go red and then he lets go.  
  
"I want to be more than just an asset for him and his company, an heir to his fortune," he says. "I want to be his son."  
  
Here is Placido, trying to study for Finals in his best friend's house. And here is Juanito, pacing around his too-large room, rambling about his father and his sexuality. And the room, really, feels a lot bigger — and they, consequently, feel a lot smaller — when they're not on the same bed and Juanito is not struggling to learn something an arm away from where Placido is trying to teach him.  
  
Juanito gets sick of waiting on his response, speaks up again before Placido can. "And like, okay. I like you, right?" he says, almost matter-of-factly. "And even though I  _know_ that we'll never be anything, that doesn't mean that I don't feel anything. And, way I see it, I may never like anyone again. Because they won't be you. And, man, isn't that pretty fucking gay to say? I'm fucking _gay_."  
  
He has this really easy going laugh despite himself, makes it hard for Placido to not smile right back at him.  
  
"Okay," Placido nods along, actually saying something this time. He's kept his notes, shows Juanito that he has his undivided attention. "But, uhh... just because you say that now doesn't mean it has to be true forever, okay? I would want you to be happy the way I can't make you because I'm the way I am. I would always want you to be happy."  
  
  
  
He stops his pacing momentarily.  
  
  
  
Placido notices how much more pronounced the hunch in his back can be at certain angles.  
  
He considers what to say, takes his lip into his mouth.  
  
"You make me all the happy that I need to be."  
  
  
  
And, resume pacing.  
  
  
  
Placido wants to call bullshit, but he doesn't. "What do you think he'll say?" he asks instead, opting out of this conversation on feelings and other related things that he does not quite understand. He wants to derail the conversation, stop it now before it goes to discussions that he's not sure how to have. "Juanito?"  
  
He picks his gaze up from the floor, shrugs.  
  
"Has he ever said anything about this sort of thing?"  
  
"No," comes Juanito's answer. "It's honestly hard to tell with him. I haven't... haven't even had a  _conversation_ with him in so long. He's not exactly great at being around. I've just gotten good at ignoring the kid in me, that misses the man who went to all of my recitals, and told me that he could give me everything I would ever need."  
  
_But in this world_ , is what he does not say,  _money is important. And in this world, we have a lot of it. I wonder if things would be different if he wasn't as much of a businessman as he is, if he would've let me be happy and take risks for my dreams. That man I miss? He does not exist, has never existed._  
  
Juanito bursts into laughter.  
  
"I'm sorry." A chuckle. "This wasn't really supposed to be about my daddy issues,  _God_ , I just—"  
  
Placido raises a hand to halt him. "Don't worry about it," he reassures. (Juanito cannot un-hear the exhaustion in his voice, but does not know how to shut up about himself for long enough to ask about it.) "I don't care if you go into tangents, or start trying to avoid the subject you've brought up in the first place. Just... Tell me whatever you would like to, okay?"  
  
  
  
He continues to pace.  
  
  
  
Placido remains patient with him.  
  
  
  
There is a silence that hovers over them for a while, and Juanito finds himself thinking about ways to segway into a different conversation. He even considers that they ought to do what they had planned to, and get ready for their Finals right about now. But he's pulled his friend out of his studying, and he'd feel like an ass for interrupting all to not finish what he started.  
  
  
  
"You're aromantic, right?"  
  
Placido looks at him, bemused. "Yeah."  
  
  
  
More pacing.  
  
  
  
Then Juanito stops in his tracks.

Placido furrows his brows as the other boy meets his gaze.  
  
"Are you asexual, too?"  
  
  
  
Another beat of silence.  
  
  
  
Placido's not entirely sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. He raises an eyebrow. "Does it matter?" He doesn't know where this conversation is headed, wonders if Juanito is trying to get something out of him or is just plain curious. He is only  _sort of_ trying to avoid the question.  
  
"Maybe?"  
  
"Okay," Placido says. "Say, hypothetically, I'm not. Say,  _hypothetically_ , I  _am_ sexually attracted to you. Would you ever let anything happen between us, knowing I could never love you the way that you... knowing that I'm just unable to feel the same for you as you do for me?"  
  
Juanito hesitates. (Placido finds that somewhat odd, but doesn't bring it up.) "No."  
  
"Then I guess it doesn't really matter."  
  
Juanito stares, scrutinizes him.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, man."  
  
He goes kind of wide-eyed. "You're  _not_ ," he accuses.  
  
Placido shrugs. "I never said that," he says simply. He mumbles something about how they should probably get some studying done, but he makes no move to retrieve his notes and only spins his pencil between his fingers. This isn't anything new. He feels that ninety percent of their so-called study sessions end up with the other boy's lack of an attention span showing as he actually tries to be productive.  
  
Or, these study sessions are just an excuse for Juanito to get Placido in his room — not like that — and start ranting about anything and everything. They'll just end up spiraling into too-deep conversations that don't leave much room for studying, and this of course comes hand in hand with his inability to stay focused on anything that involves books and college.  
  
  
  
Placido thinks that, at least he's being quiet this time—  
  
"Have you ever had sex then?"  
  
—Never mind.  
  
  
  
Placido pinches at the bridge of his nose, drags his gaze toward the other boy. (Juanito finds it quite amusing, honestly, to constantly exasperate him.) He flicks his pencil toward him, looks at him pointedly. "What are you on about, Pelaez?"  
  
He shrugs. "What? I was curious."  
  
  
  
A pause.  
  
  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"That means yes, doesn't it?"  
  
"No."  
  
Juanito narrows his gaze, tries to figure him out. (It doesn't work.)  
  
Placido rolls his eyes, throws a pillow at him and tells Juanito to come just sit with him.  
  
He follows along, back to an arm's length away from the Batangueno.  
  
  
  
A lapse of quiet.  
  
  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" Juanito asks him, an attempt to fill in the quiet. "I don't want to make this all about me, I'm..." He doesn't know where to go from there because his head is still kind of swimming, floating away. He looks down at the bed, picks up a highlighter and stops tentatively. It's pink. He swipes a line against Placido's hand. "I think you're important."  
  
"You're so stupid,  _God_ ," Placido laughs. (It's a little somber for a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.)  
  
"Placido?"  
  
"Yeah," he says curtly. "I'm fine."  
  
He's kind of disbelieving, but doesn't really want to push. "Okay, if you say so." He nods along.  
  
Placido purses his lips, can easily tell that Juanito's not buying it. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Juanito's hand twitches from on top of his lap. He lets the quiet float around them, and it's kind of nice. He fixed some things around before Placido had gotten here, so there are piles of miscellaneous crap over there in the corner but everything else seems organized enough. Even with a laptop, and piles of paper, and far more pillows than one could ever need on even a king-sized bed— the space feels like it's theirs.  
  
  
  
Placido places his hand on the other boy's as it begins to twitch. "Are  _you_ okay?" he asks, breaking the silence. He reaches for Juanito's other hand, takes the pink highlighter into his own. He mimics what the other had done, drawing a line on the back of his hand. "I think you're important, too."  
  
He snorts. "Who's stupid now?"  
  
"Honest answer?" the Batangueno asks, rhetorical. "Still you."  
  
"I hate you." He rolls his eyes. Juanito shoves at his shoulder, but Placido only smiles in return.  
  
"That's not what you said when—"  
  
"That's  _low_ , Placiding. Don't use my feelings against me."  
  
Placido shrugs. "Sorry," he says. A thoughtful pause. He contemplates just what he ought to say next. "But on the subject of... your feelings... Should we, like, go back to what you were saying earlier? With your dad? I mean..." he trails off. "This is important to you, isn't it? I can just drop it if you want me to, but..."  
  
Juanito sighs. "I don't know. You love me no matter what, right?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Mm..." Juanito hums. "I wish that was enough, but he's—"  
  
"Your father, yeah. I get it."  
  
  
  
The silence returns.  
  
  
  
"Do you need any help?" Placido voices out.  
  
Juanito raises an eyebrow. "I'll manage."  
  
"Not with coming out, idiot," the scholar laughs. "I was talking about the fact that we have finals in two weeks, and you have no idea what the hell is going on in half of the classes we share." He laughs along, acknowledging his mistake. "Right, right. Of course. Thanks, man."  
  
Placido nods, about to say something before he presses two fingers to his temple. "Actually, we can go over lectures together some other time. My head is kind of spinning. Next week, maybe?"  
  
  
  
He just stares.  
  
  
  
"Juanito? Are you there?"  
  
He purses his lips, draws his brows together as though deep in thought.  
  
"Maybe we should—"  
  
"Can I kiss you?"  
  
" _What?_ "  
  
Juanito startles at the incredulous tone in Placido's voice. His eyes widen.  _I said that out loud. I actually said that out loud, shit. Shit, shit, shit—_ "Uhh... Sorry,  _sorry_... Ha. _Minsan talaga, kung anu-ano na lang pinagsasabi ko, ha... Alam mo naman 'yun, 'di ba, Placiding?_ " He continues on in a spiel, about how ridiculous he was to say that and how Placido should just forget, forget, forget that it ever happened to begin with.  
  
Placido makes another grab for his hand, tries to stop his rambling. "Sure, okay."  
  
" _Okay?_ " Juanito splutters out.  
  
"Yeah," the other boy says, calm. "Okay."  
  
  
A blink.  
  
  
"You're serious?" he questions.  
  
A shrug.  
  
  
  
Silence.  
  
  
  
" _Ano na, Pelaez? 'Di ba ikaw nagtanong sa'kin kung—_ "  
  
His cheeks go pink. "Shut up.  _Shut up_. Wait."  
  
"What are you? Thirteen?"  
  
Juanito groans into his hands. " _Manahimik ka nga diyan_."  
  
Placido laughs.  
  
"Stop laughing at me," he whines, prolonging the vowel sound.  
  
  
  
The laughter doesn't really stop.  
  
  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Okay?"  
  
" _'Lika na_."  
  
" _'Lika na?_ How romantic, Pelaez."  
  
"You're  _aromantic_ , Penitente—"  
  
  
  
And then they're kissing. (Which is strange, but not unpleasant.)  
  
  
  
And then they're not. (Which is not as strange.)  
  
  
  
Juanito's hand twitches again, but Placido holds it in place.  
  
  
  
"So," Placido breaks the silence. "Still like me, huh?"  
  
He shrugs. "Still aromantic?"  
  
He gets another shrug in response.  
  
"Not asexual though?"  
  
"...Not asexual though," Placido repeats, nodding slightly.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Are  _you_ okay?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"...are _we_ okay?"  
  
  
  
"...yeah."  
  
  
  
  
  
_**You make me want to breathe again.**_

**Author's Note:**

> _To be beside you is all that I could ever ask. (Like Letter :: BP Valenzuela)._
> 
> The original concept from months ago had a lot more angst, which was why I wanted to write this part. But I kind of cut most of that version out because I felt that Placido would be too out of character, so you have this instead.
> 
> Also, I'm considering branching out from Elibarra, Basagani, and Penilaez soon. So maybe look forward to that? Soon isn't very soon though, ha. (I currently have ideas for more character-centric ones (i.e. there's this Tadeo one that I'm going to maybe do next, so that's pretty cool), and also stuff for say, Basilio & Crispin, or Basilio & Kapitan Tiago, or Basilio & Juli — I kind of really want to get a hold of my characterization of Basilio because I'm dissatisfied with how I've portrayed him in a lot of my fics — or Ibarra & Padre Damaso, etc.)
> 
>  
> 
> look at [this art](https://twitter.com/basaganii/status/911591901542850560).
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/saaille).


End file.
